


Collection of Sweet, Affectionate Moments

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 12,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: A collection of short pieces with multiple pairings answering requests from a 'sweet affectionate moments meme' and 'nonsexual acts of intimacy meme'.





	1. Drunken Kiss (Oswald x Maroni)

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure if this was the best format to put these in, but I kind of wanted to put them somewhere other than my tumblr. Each chapter's title is the prompt and pairing that was requested.

Maroni watched as his golden goose lifted the wine glass up to his lips and gulped down the contents. It was his fifth glass. The little guy could really put it away. He must be nervous. He was looking around skittishly and fiddling with the napkin and the cutlery whenever he wasn’t drinking.

“Calm down, would you? What’s eating at you, Oswald?” The older man asked with a chuckle, his own voiced slightly slurred by alcohol.

“S-Sorry sir. I guess I’m just not used to being invited places, especially not by someone as important as yourself.”

Maroni laughed at that answer. He had to admit, Oswald’s tendency to butter him up was something he rather liked. Sure, he knew that a great deal of it was just him trying to kiss his ass and stay in his good books, but that didn’t matter too much to him.

“Well, get used to it. I like you, Oswald, and I figure you’ve earned a few fancy dinners and drinks at my expense after all you’ve done for me.”

Oswald smiled politely, fidgeting with the cutlery again. “T-Thank you, Don Maron-“

He was cut off mid-sentence by the larger man leaning in and kissing him on the lips. He could taste the wine that Maroni had been drinking and felt his head begin to spin with a mixture of drunkenness and the warm, wet sensation of his boss’ lips against his, probing his tongue into his mouth for a few moments, before he pulled back.

Maroni finished his glass of wine as if nothing had just happened. Then he patted Oswald on the knee and shot him a smile that was somewhere between charming and wolfish. “You’re welcome.”


	2. Massage (Ed x Oswald)

“Trying day, Mr Mayor?” Ed asked, his hands running up Oswald’s back back soothingly as he sat behind the smaller man.

Oswald leaned into his touch appreciatively, his whole body felt like it was aching from the tiring day.

  “Very trying.” He replied with a groan. “Honestly, things were easier when I stab could just my problems away.”  

Ed chuckled and began to rub Oswald’s shoulders, working some of the tension away with his skilled hands.

“Poor thing.” He murmured sympathetically, knowing how Oswald liked to be indulged and pampered. Now that his mother was gone, it fell to Ed to fill that role whenever the Mayor was in need of someone to spoil him. “Tell me what happened.”

Oswald began to explain, but every so often his words were cut off as he moaned in response to Ed’s hands rubbing his shoulders. It felt so good after the muscles had grown stiff and tense throughout the day.  

“Mhm… I see.” Ed commented once Oswald had finished recounting the events of the day. “That does sound irritating.”

“Yes.” Oswald moaned, half in agreement that it was irritating, half in pleasure at the attention he was getting from Ed’s hands.

Ed chuckled, fully aware of the effect the shoulder rub was having on the little bird. He paused for a moment, instead lowering his hands and linking them around Oswald’s waist. He kissed him on the cheek from behind then whispered a suggestion for something a little more intimate than a massage to help work away some of Oswald’s tension.


	3. Sorry Kiss (Jim x Nicewald)

Jim was a man who was more than familiar with the feeling of regret. Throughout his life, he had made decisions he’d regretted, said things he’d wished that he hadn’t. However, ever since coming back to Gotham, he seemed to regret more and more.  
 _  
“It’s torture, I’m telling you!”  
  
“I don’t see any signs of it.”  
  
“It’s mental torture!”_  
  
Looking back on that afternoon in the Arkham courtyard, Jim felt that all too familiar sense of regret weigh heavily on his conscience. Oswald had done plenty wrong in his life, but no one deserved what he had gone through in Arkham. He could have done something to stop it. But he hadn’t.  
  
“Jim, it’s good to see you.” Oswald Cobblepot smiled at him. It was a smile that seemed new to the normally scheming and underhanded little gangster’s face. A smile completely devoid of any cruelty or mischief. There was only friendliness and genuine happiness to see Jim again.  
  
It made the guilt welling up inside of Jim all the more unbearably.  
  
  “Oswald. I’m sorry.”  
  
Oswald looked a Jim with his pale blue eyes wide and innocent, almost like a child. He wasn’t the same man that Jim had met in the Arkham courtyard. Whatever had happened to him in Arkham… It hadn’t been good.  
  
 _“It’s mental torture!”_  
  
Those words, said so desperately, rang in Jim’s ears again.  
  
“It’s okay, Jim. I understand.” The smile on Oswald’s face grew sad, but his voice was soft and it almost seemed as if the sadness was for the pain that Jim was feeling at that moment rather than sadness at what had happened to him. He reached out and touched Jim’s arm, trying to comfort him a little bit.  
  
Jim winced. He didn’t deserve this. Not after what he had done, or rather what he hadn’t done. Before he could convince himself that it was a bad idea, Jim threw his arms around Oswald’s small frame and hugged him tight. It took Oswald by surprise, but he soon leaned into it, his hands resting on Jim’s back.  
  
 “I’m sorry.” Jim repeated to him again, but this time, he sealed the words with a soft kiss on the other man’s lips.


	4. Sharing a Bath (Ed x Nicewald)

He wasn’t the same Oswald that Ed remembered.

He didn’t know what to think of him anymore.

But he was still Oswald. Parts of him had just… been stripped away.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t angry. They got inside of your head. They hurt you.” The taller man pointed out, his long fingers dipped in the warm bathwater as he watched his friend run the washcloth over his arms, his shoulders. Ed noticed that he’d lost weight. It hurt him more than he had expected to see him this way. It wasn’t just the change, it was everything that had caused the change. Oswald had been through hell in Arkham, yet he didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and what he did say he said with no detectable malice or outrage towards what he’d endured. How could he be so cheerful? So optimistic? It infuriated Ed, and it scared him.

“They were trying to help me. Besides, what good would it do to get angry at them?” Oswald smiled.

Ed lowered his eyes, he looked at the water, seeing a few stray feathers (from Butch and Tabitha’s assault) floating on its glassy surface. His jaw tightened, trying to fight the unpleasant gnawing of guilt at having never once visited Oswald, never inquired about him, after he had been arrested and taken there. He had reasoned that it would be too risky and too suspicious to do so, but now it bothered him.

“Ed?”

A fragile hand, wet from the bathwater, touched the side of his face tenderly.

“Are you alright?”

Ed flinched back, as if the touch burned him.

“No. No, I’m not alright.” He replied, his voice tight and his dark brown eyes glistening behind his glasses. “You’re not Oswald. Not really. Not the Oswald that I called my friend. He’d never allow those lowlifes in Arkham to get away with what they did to you.”

Oswald’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He looked hurt, but he didn’t defend himself. He didn’t get angry. If he had gotten angry, it might have made Ed feel a little bit better.

“Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore.”


	5. Caring for Each Other While Ill (Oswald x Falcone)

“Cobblepot, you should go home. You look like death.” Falcone’s words were matter of fact, almost harsh. But he was right, Oswald looked like death, and he felt like it too. 

His usually pale skin looked pastier than usual and there was a sheen of cold sweat across his brow. Every two minutes or so, he coughed into his fist or sniffled, or both. 

He hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but Falcone wasn’t blind. It was obvious the young man had contracted some sort of flu. He’d probably caught it from him.  Last week, Falcone had been bedridden with similar symptoms. While he had improved enough to go about his day to day business mostly unaffected, the mob boss still found himself shivering and far more easily tired than was usual for him.

“I’m fine, sir. Really. Besides, you said you needed my reports on what Maroni has been up to. I have them here and-“ The younger man began coughing again and Falcone felt a twinge of affection for him. He knew that Oswald was a sneaky, devious little fellow. He had no doubts that his loyalty was questionable at best. However, seeing him insist that he was fine and could work while so obviously in need of his bed was oddly endearing. 

“Go home, Cobblepot.” Falcone repeated, a little more firmly. 

“But sir, you’re not well yourself and I want to hel-“

“I’m fine.” Falcone smiled slightly. Of course Oswald had noticed that he was still flush himself. He had been foolish to think that he could hide that from him. Despite playing the role of the meek, submissive little helper, he was as observant as ever. “Go home, go to bed and I’ll see you when you’re well again.”

The older man squeezed his shoulder and Oswald looked up at him, struggling to hold in another coughing fit. He nodded, a little surprised by the Don’s concern for his health. Then he told himself that it would just be out of practicality, he was of no use to him sick. He shouldn’t mistake it for affection. Their relationship was purely material, purely for each others’ gain. They were using each other and that was it. 

“Thank you, sir. I’m very grateful.” He coughed lightly, trying to hold the worst of them in. 

“Don’t mention it. Look after yourself, Cobblepot.”

Oswald smiled and ducked his head meekly before making his way out of the room and signalling Gabe to drive him home. As soon as he sunk into the carseat, he felt his head spin and he was glad to be off of his feet. Despite his initial reluctance to go, he knew that Falcone had been right, he couldn’t work in this condition.

_“Look after yourself, Cobblepot.”_

His eyelids grew heavy and he struggled to keep his head up during the drive. Nonetheless, Falcone’s words echoed in his head and he smirked slightly.

‘Oh, I intend to.’ He thought to himself, images of his ascent spinning through his feverish head.

 

 


	6. Accidentally Falling Asleep Together (Oswald x Maroni)

Oswald didn’t know why Maroni had invited him to dinner that night. At first he had suspected that he must have something important to tell him. He also worried, for a brief moment, that perhaps it was a trap. But when he sat down in the booth beside the larger man, he quickly realised that business was not on the forefront of Maroni’s mind.

He just wanted to drink and be merry and stuff himself with expensive food. He insisted that Oswald did too.

The smaller man still didn’t understand why Maroni had invited him instead of his many other associates, but he couldn’t help but feel a secret sense of self satisfaction that he had worked his way so far into the other’s confidence that Maroni felt comfortable enough to invite him before say, Franki Carbone.

They ended up spending the whole evening in that small booth at the back of one of the many restaurants that Maroni owned or had a stake in. Oswald listening obediently to every sordid story that his boss told him. At first, he had kept a clearer head than Maroni, but eventually, the wine took effect and he was also quite drunk. Slowly he began to let himself relax and even enjoy himself.

Both had been up since early that morning and when it came to time for the restaurant to close up, the hapless waiter tasked with hinting to the mob boss and his friend that they would have to leave saw the two men asleep, bodies leaning against each other, their empty plates and wine glasses in front of them on the table.

He decided that he could clear up the used crockery and come back in ten minutes or so. It seemed like a bad idea to disturb their slumber.


	7. Taking a Bath Together (Jim x Oswald)

Jim didn’t really understand how Oswald could still be self conscious around him when he’d already seen pretty much every square inch of the other man’s body. It wasn’t as if he was going to see anything new or shocking, but no matter how much he reassured him, he still seemed afraid of something. Perhaps he was afraid that if he saw his body in something other than the dim moonlight, he wouldn’t want him anymore.

“The shower’s broken, I’ve got hardly any hot water and we’re both badly in need of a wash. I don’t see any other way around it.”

“You can go first. I’ll wash after you.”

“In a tub of cold, used water? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I can take a bath at home, I’ll just wash my face here and-“

“Oswald,” Jim placed a hand on the other man’s arm and squeezed gently. “I won’t force you, but if you don’t want to do this because you think that it will change the way I feel about you… You don’t need to worry.”

Being openly affectionate with the small, scrawny gangster had not come easily to Jim. He knew that their relationship, if it could be called that, was strange. Wrong, even. He knew that it probably wouldn’t last. But he did care about him, for better or for worse.

Oswald swallowed nervously, seeing the honest look in Jim’s eyes and knowing that the detective meant what he said. However, he couldn’t dispel the anxious feeling jumping around inside of him. He hated it. He hated how weak it made him feel. Jim was right, he was being ridiculous.

“Look, how about this? I’ll get in the tub first, and if you want to join me you can. If not, then you can just keep me company for a bit longer.” Jim smiled, an earnest, if slightly awkward smile. Affection was still difficult, but it wasn’t ingenuine.

Oswald smiled, grateful for the compromise. “Thank you, Jim.”


	8. Forehead or Cheek Kisses (Jim x Nicewald)

The first time that Jim Gordon had kissed Oswald Cobblepot had been rough and passionate. He’d grabbed the other man by the lapels and kissed him hard enough to bruise the sensitive skin, chapped and sore from the cold. It had been snowing. Jim didn’t know why he’d decided to kiss him then. Something about the way he had been quivering, half from the cold, half from nerves, and speaking so quickly. Words upon words pouring from those lips.

Maybe he’d just wanted to shut him up.

It wasn’t the best reason to kiss someone. But it had worked.

When he first saw Oswald after his release from Arkham, he wished that he could shut him up again. When he talked about how nice the weather was, how happy he was to see Jim again, how grateful he was to be given a second chance… Jim wanted nothing more than to kiss him hard on the lips again and to make him shut up.

But he didn’t. He listened.

He listened to every sweet word coming out from his mouth. He hadn’t listened before. He’d shut him out, left him to rot in that hellhole. The least he could do was listen now, even if it hurt.

“Jim?”

Oswald looked up at the other man curiously, sensing that something was wrong.   “Jim, are you alright?”

Jim realised that he must have done a bad job at keeping how much this hurt him from Oswald. He forced the pained look from his face and replaced it with a slightly uneasy smile.   “I’m fine.”

It didn’t feel right to kiss him hard on the lips anymore, so he kissed him tenderly on the cheek instead. He embraced him and felt the other man return the kiss on his own cheek.

“I’m happy for you, Oswald.”


	9. Having their Hair Washed by the Other (Ed x Oswald)

Oswald had always preferred baths to showers. Baths reminded him of his mother’s home. He had always had baths at home, long indulgent baths that relaxed his muscles and left him feeling at least a little bit better no matter what had happened in the day up to that point. In contrast, his only memories of showers growing up were the icy cold ones he was forced to take after gym class. The other children taunted him for how scrawny he was. They’d often steal his gym clothes, or throw them in a toilet, and he’d have to report it back to his mother. Of course she’d always be understanding, but it made him feel ashamed for letting it happen over and over again.

Ed preferred showers to baths. They were faster and more hygienic. He saw no point in sitting for minutes on end in a pool of water that became dirtier as time went on.

Nonetheless, he knew the emotional connection Oswald had to them and when he saw him sitting in front of the fireplace one evening, his shoulders sagging and his already diminutive form seeming deflated, he knew that a bath might help lighten his spirits.

It took some persuading to get him to go to the bathroom, Ed insisting that he wanted to show him something.

“What could you possibly want to show me in the _bathroom_?” Oswald had grumbled, more snippy than usual when he was in a bad mood.

“Just come and see.”

When he finally persuaded him, presenting him with the tub full of warm water and swirling with lilac bubbles, the look on Oswald’s face told him that he had made the right decision.

Oswald seemed to think that Ed might join him in the tub, but Ed was hesitant. While it was of a generous size, Ed thought that his long limbs might make the experience more uncomfortable and awkward than soothing.

This time, it was Oswald’s turn to insist. Eventually, Ed felt he had no choice but to comply.

He undressed and sat with his back against the porcelain edge, his long legs bent so they didn’t stick out at the other side. Oswald sat in front of him, his back to Ed, his smaller form resting against the other man.

Oswald was quite content just to sit like this, to enjoy the warm water soaking into him and letting it wash away some of his worries, with the added bonus of having Ed’s loving arms wrapped around him, but he soon let out a splutter of surprise as water was poured over his head.

“Ed!” He squeaked in surprise and outrage, his hair flattened to his scalp thanks to the water. He struggled to turn around and face his assailant, but Ed merely chuckled and kept an arm around him to hold him still. With the other, he put the now empty basin back on the floor beside the bathtub.

 “Sorry.” The guilty party leaned forwards and picked up a bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub. “But the purpose of a bath is to become clean, is it not?”

“A little warning would have been nice.” Oswald replied, a slightly sulky tone entering his voice, but Ed soon pacified him with a kiss to his cheek.

“I couldn’t resist.”

He squirted a blob of shampoo into the palm of one of his hands and was soon rubbing the sweet smelling liquid into the other man’s raven black hair. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Oswald sighed softly, his eyes closing over. Ed’s fingers massaging the shampoo into his hair was rather nice, it was hard to remain annoyed at him when he was doing that.

“You had better.”

Ed smiled, dipping his hands in the water to wash the remnants of shampoo for his hands and then filling up the basin again from the bathtub’s taps.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

He was beginning to see some appeal in baths after all.


	10. Scared Kiss (Fish x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps less sweet than the other chapters, but it was from the same prompt list. I'm going to be filling a few more prompts from this list so expect some more chapters in the near future. You can send in requests through my tumblr ([goth-on-ham](http://goth-on-ham.tumblr.com/)).

Oswald had dressed in his best suit and stood nervously in front of the woman known as Fish Mooney. He handed her his resumé, but she barely looked at it. Instead, she scrutinised his appearance, drew her eyes over every inch of him. Then, suddenly, she offered him a drink. It wasn’t the interview process he had imagined.

“So tell me, do you like boys or girls?”

The question had caught Oswald off guard. He never been asked that before. The closest had been back in school, when every so often a meathead would knock him hard on the back or the shoulder and ask him crassly, “You a faggot, Cobblepot?”

“Is that… Um, I’m sorry Miss Mooney, but is that relevant to the position?” He smiled, but he was stammering, wringing his hands. The drink that sat on the bar for him was as untouched as his resumé was unlooked at. 

Fish laughed and it almost sounded like a purr, she shook her head. “I’m just curious.” She admitted, but she didn’t retract the question. She didn’t say ‘never mind’. Oswald felt like it still hung in the air, like a guillotine over his neck.

“Girls, Miss Mooney.” He replied, giving her the answer that he thought she wanted to hear. He just hoped that he sounded convincing. 

“Girls, hm?”

He nodded, a little too quickly. 

She smiled widely, a hand resting beneath her chin. She tapped her jawline with a finger, considering something in a slightly theatrical manner.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Oswald shifted uncomfortably. Why was she still pressing him on this? What did it matter? 

“No, Miss Mooney.” He confessed. He might have considered lying about that too, but if he had she would have probably asked him how many girls he’d kissed, what their names were, when he’d kissed them, how many times, where, when… A whole list of questions.

“I see.” She moved her hand away from her chin and then stood up, taking the few steps needed to be standing right in front of him, uncomfortably close. So close that her chest brushed against him and he could smell her perfume. “Would you like to?”

Oswald’s breath hitched, he couldn’t speak. He nodded, because he had to. He couldn’t say no to Fish Mooney. 

She reached up and pulled him down slightly, kissing him long and deep. Unlike Oswald, she had kissed plenty of people before. She was good at it. Oswald didn’t give her much to work with though, he just stood there, frozen to the spot.

‘Poor boy,’ She thought to herself, as her lips parted from his several seconds later.

“You’ve got the job, kid. Don’t disappoint me.” She said as she walked back to her previous place at the bar and sat down. 

Oswald started back into life, still slightly stunned, but quickly spilling out words of gratitude and promises that she wouldn’t regret this.

“I’m sure I won’t, but Oswald, one word of advice.”

“Yes, Miss Mooney?”

“Don’t ever lie to me again.”

Oswald’s eyes widened slowly and his face grew steadily scarlet as he realised what she meant.

He liked boys.


	11. Naughty Kiss (Zsasz x Ed)

“I see. Risky plan. What if it goes wrong? What if Gilzean really does kill Penguin?”  
  
Victor was impressed by Ed. It wasn’t difficult to get in contact with him if you mixed in certain circles, but it still took a certain type of person to have the nerve to call him. Ed had.  
  
“It _won’t_ go wrong.”  
  
“Confident, huh?”  
  
“You could say that.” A little chuckle.  
  
Ed had a pretty mouth.  
  
Victor was  _very_  impressed by Ed.  
  
“Fine then. Tomorrow night it is then.” He agreed, hopping down from stool he’d been perched on and taking a few steps forwards. He was standing a little too close to the other man to be comfortable, but Ed either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He probably didn’t notice, too caught up in his clever little plan.  
  
“Excellent, now as for payment…”  Ed began, but before he could finish, Victor kissed him on the lips.  
  
It wasn’t as deep or as long as Victor would have liked, just a quick peck, but enough to make Ed take a few steps back in surprise and raise his hands up, startled, flustered. Pretty  _adorable_ , in Victor’s opinion.  
  
“What… What did you do that for?” He asked, struggling to regain his composure.  
  
“Payment.” Victor shrugged. He walked past Ed, casually, as if kissing him had been the most normal thing in the world.  
  
Ed watched in stunned silence as the infamous assassin Victor Zsasz walked past him, their shoulders nearly touching, and his lips still tingling from the kiss.  
  
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Victor called, just as he left the room.


	12. Tending An Injury (Jim x Oswald)

“Oswald… Oswald…”

He could hear a voice calling his name. Low, gruff, but strained with concern. His head spun and ached as he tried to open his eyes, tried to focus, tried to think of who was talking to him. Who the hell would be concerned about him? 

“Oswald… You need… Hospital… How… Bleeding?”

Words were missing, replaced by a fuzzy noise. He groaned, eventually managing to keep his eyes open for more than a second at a time. 

“How… Fingers?” 

‘Jim?’

He was doing something strange with his hand. Words were still missing.

“Many… Fingers?”

‘Oh. How many fingers?’ He thought to himself, finally working out what Jim was asking him.

But he couldn’t work out how many fingers Jim was holding up.

“S-Seven?” He tried, which was ridiculous, since Jim was only holding up one hand.

Through his blurred vision he managed to catch a glimpse of Jim’s brow furrowing in concern. 

“Oswald, I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

Oswald laughed at being able to understand a whole sentence. He didn’t know why he found that funny. He should be terrified. What was wrong with him?

His head was in  _agony._

“No. No, I’m fine.” He tried to push Jim away as the other man began to try to lift him to his feet. “ _Don’t_.” He insisted, firmer now, suddenly angry. Inordinately angry. “Jim, let me  _go_.”

Jim didn’t let him go. 

“I’m the Mayor, you have to-“

“Exactly, you’re the Mayor. You’ve got no reason to be worried about going to the hospital.” 

The anger passed as quickly as it came and Oswald felt like he would suddenly burst into tears. What was  _wrong_  with him? 

He became like a deadweight to Jim and the detective struggled to keep him up on his feet, eventually giving up and letting him slide down (carefully) back onto the hard ground. He suddenly became aware of the blood running down the side of his face. Some had dripped onto his shirt. It was a good shirt. Not the first one he’d ruined by bloodstains though.

“Damn…” Jim’s mouth moved for more words, but Oswald couldn’t hear them again. He wanted to go to sleep again. He was so tired. He didn’t even want to know what had happened any more, he was just tired.

Jim began wrapping something white around his head and the pressure when it was tied made him whine in pain. When he tried to reach up to remove it, or to loosen it at least, Jim took his hands and moved them back down. 

“I’m… Ambulance.”

He took out a phone, began dialling a number. Oswald’s eyes began to close over as he listened to the fuzzy sound of Jim’s muffled voice making the call. One of Jim’s hands remained on the back of his, his thumb brushing gently over the back of his hand. Oswald found that the tears he had suddenly wanted to start crying moments ago began to spill over. 

He wished Ed was here. 

He didn’t know Ed had done this to him.


	13. Catching the Other Before They Fall (Tarquin x Oswald)

Oswald grunted and gasped in frustration, reaching up as far as he could, yet no matter how he tried, the book remained just out of reach. 

He cursed underneath his breath, trying to move onto his tiptoes once more, although his bad leg was beginning to ache with the effort.

His fingertips touched the book’s spine, but he couldn’t quite grip it. 

“Damn it…” He looked around the room, then moved over to the chair that sat behind his desk. He carried it over then placed it in front of the bookshelf and, putting his cane aside, carefully stepped onto it.   He got the book easily and felt pretty pleased with himself for a few moments, before a voice behind him startled him.

“Mr Mayor?” 

Oswald jumped, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and the chair slipped beneath him, sending him crashing down onto the floor. Or it would have, if the man who had given him such a start hadn’t caught him. 

“Gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to alarm you.” It was his new acting Chief of Staff. Ed’s replacement. His name was Tarquin and he was sickeningly helpful and capable. It would have been so much simpler if he was incompetent. It would be easier just to hate him then, but the man was good at his job. Not as good as Ed of course, but still good.

“Don’t mention it.” Oswald muttered. 

‘ _Please_  don’t mention it.’ He added, inside his head.

He felt foolish and aggravated, and pushed himself away from Tarquin, straightening his shirt and suit jacket with a huff of embarrassment.

“What were you doing up there? You could have asked someone to get it for you. I could even have gotten it for you.” Tarquin laughed slightly, and Oswald’s jaw clenched in vexation. He clutched the book protectively to his chest. 

“Very kind of you, I’m sure.” Oswald grumbled. 

“What book is it anyway?”

Oswald wasn’t sure why Tarquin was still talking to him. Had he come for anything in particular? Or did he just come to pester him? The man was like an overeager puppy or something. Always wanting pats on the head and confirmation that he was doing a good job. Why couldn’t he just get on with things? 

“It’s nothing.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to get it.” 

Oswald didn’t move for a few moments, then, with a roll of his eyes, he revealed the front cover. Tarquin probably wouldn’t leave him in peace until he did. 

“‘The History of Courtship in Gotham’? That’s odd.” 

“Why is it odd?” Oswald demanded, walking over to his desk and dropping the book onto it with a heavy sounding thud.

“I just mean it’s an odd title for a book. I don’t really see why it’s in the office’s library.” 

“Did you want something, Tarquin?” Oswald finally asked, leaning on the desk, an impatient smile on his face. 

“Oh, of course. Apologies.” He handed Oswald a sheet of paper in a brown folder. “The list of attendees at the charity dinner tonight. You asked for them in advance.”

“I see, thank you.” Oswald flipped the folder open and began to scan the names. 

“The organisers also asked again about your plus one.”

“I’ll be attending alone.”

Tarquin paused for a moment. He remembered a few events where the Mayor had taken his predecessor, Mr Nygma, with him as his plus one. However, he supposed that was due to their closeness, rather than his appointment as Chief of Staff. 

“I see. I’ll let them know.”

“Yes.” Oswald didn’t look up as he continued to read the list, wincing slightly as he recognised the names of a few tedious people. 

Tarquin left the Mayor in peace, sighing slightly as he closed the door behind him. One day, he swore, he would get him to like him. But it would take time. Eventually, he would prove himself to be just as capable, just as reliable, and just as smart as Mr Nygma. Then, maybe, he would end up being his plus one.


	14. Black Eye (Bullock x Nicewald)

“Hey, Harv. We got a guy saying he wants to see you.” 

Harvey groaned and reluctantly got out of his chair. “What about?” 

“He didn’t say.”

“Did he give his name?”

“Yeah, Oswald Cobblepot.” The younger officer chuckled a little, clearly he knew a bit about the infamous gangster and previous ‘King of Gotham’. 

“You’re kidding…” 

—

Oswald was sitting anxiously, trying not to pay any attention to the way the officers all stared at him. He couldn’t really blame them, it must be strange for them to see him here willingly after he had done so many bad things. 

“Hey, Penguin!”

He turned around as he heard Bullock’s familiar voice come from a short distance away. He smiled, a little awkwardly, and gave the man a small wave. 

“Christ, look at you. I barely recognised you without your fancy-pants suits.” 

It was true. He looked pretty different in his oversized winter coat, overly worn sweater, and black bobble hat. But they were warm, and warmth was more important than style when you didn’t know if you would have a roof over your head. 

“It’s good to see you, Detective Bullock. I know that you’re a busy man, but I just wanted to come by and say hello… And apologise too.” He saw that Harvey was confused, so he continued. “I wanted to apologise for my awful behaviour in the past. You had to put up with a lot of it, and I wanted to say that I’ve changed, and that you won’t have to deal with that any longer.’

“Uh huh…” Harvey nodded slowly, clearly taken aback by the stark change in Oswald’s character. It was a bit freaky. Professor Strange must be a miracle worker. However, there was something besides Oswald’s behaviour that caught his attention. He pointed at the other man’s face, “What’s with the black eye?”

“Oh!” Oswald had nearly forgotten about that. “Um… I…” He fumbled for his words, and Harvey smirked to himself.

“Getting into fights already, eh, Penguin? You almost had me tricked there.” 

“No, I swear! I just… I bumped into some other old friends, and they weren’t too happy to see me.” He explained, spreading his hands in front of him and looking at Harvey imploringly, hoping that he would believe him. “I’ve not been doing anything bad since I was released. Honestly!”

‘I’ve not been doing anything bad.’ The guy sounded like a kid or something. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll believe you.” 

“Thank you.” Oswald took a deep breath of relief. 

“Hey, Smithy! Get me an icepack from medical or somewhere, okay?” Harvey called over to one of the junior officers, the young woman nodded and went off, not in too much of a hurry. 

Oswald tilted his head in confusion. 

“You want a coffee or something?” Harvey offered. “It tastes like warmed up crap but you look freezing.”

“Um, no… Thank you. That’s kind of you to offer.” Oswald smiled politely. He had to admit, he wouldn’t have been completely surprised if Harvey had given him a second black eye. He had always seemed like he wanted to sock him when they’d met in the past. He felt like he must have misjudged him. He was a good man.

The officer returned with the icepack and before Oswald could ask what it was for, Harvey sat down beside him and pressed it to his swollen eye. He squeaked in alarm at the sudden cold.

“Hold that there, and stay till the bad weather passes. The rain’ll just soak right through that coat.” 

“That’s… You don’t need to be so kind to me.” Oswald gulped, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt at how nice the detective was being. After he had been nothing but trouble to him in the past. 

“It’s no problem. You look after yourself, alright? I’ve got to go grab lunch. I’ll be back in a bit.” He patted Oswald on his shoulder and got up from the chair. Part of him wanted to ask the smaller man questions. He was curious, and suspicious, about Hugo Strange and Arkham, but he could tell that Oswald wouldn’t want to talk about that.

“Thank you, detective.”

Harvey nodded in acknowledgment and left the other man where he was. He wondered if he should get him a sandwich or something from the vending machine. He looked like he’d lost weight.


	15. "The ladies love a guy who's good with kids." (Jervis x Alice, sort of)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I titled this with Jervis x Alice just because I guess it *kind* of is… But that doesn’t mean I condone that relationship nor is this fic explicate in anyway. It makes a couple of vague references to Jervis’ unhealthy attachment to his sister.  
> It also doesn't *really* fit with this fic collection, but it fit more with this one than my other one.

Jervis had worked all sorts of venues. He always managed to win over even the roughest crowd, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t trying nights.

This was one such night.

“You did great, kid. Really. I thought they’d eat you alive out there.” The club owner was a large man. He wasn’t bad looking, but he was brusque, and not as charming as he probably thought he was. He also wore a suit that was a dreadful fit for him. The trousers were too short, the sleeves were a little too long. Jervis hadn’t thought it proper to point it out.

“Thank you, sir.” He smiled politely, despite the somewhat backhanded nature of the compliment.

“You want a drink or something?” He was pouring himself one already. “Wait, are you old enough to drink?”

“Not quite.”

“It was hard to tell, what with the facial hair and the way you dress.”

“I get that a lot.”

It was true, he did get that a lot. However, he had a feeling that was more to do with the fact he was his sister’s guardian.

“I couldn’t help but notice the picture you were looking at earlier. The one with the young woman in it.” It had been a picture of Alice, he’d taken it out to look at it before his performance, then again afterwards. When faced with an especially difficult night, it was helpful to remind himself why he was doing this. Who he was doing this for. “She your girlfriend or something?”

Jervis laughed before he could stop himself. “My sister. Please, sir, she is still a child.”

“Aw, sorry.” The older man looked embarrassed at his mistake.

Once he finished his drink off and went behind his desk to get Jervis’ payment.

“I look after her you see, we’re very close.”

He took out an envelope of cash and quickly checked it had the right amount in it. “That’s a lot of responsibility. Must be difficult.”

“Not especially. As I said, we’re very close.”

“Well, the ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

The edges of the young hypnotist’s mouth curled slightly at that. “I wouldn’t really know about that, sir.” He had no need for other women when he had Alice.

“So you do this sort of work to support you two? Do you make enough?” He suddenly sounded very curious and when he finished speaking, Jervis noticed a shift in the older man’s face. He could’t quite place what it was, but it was somewhat unsettling. It almost looked…

“You’re a good looking guy, I could get you a few ‘jobs’ where you could make more money than you do with a magic act.”

Villainous.

Well, he had been planning on hypnotising him and plundering the backroom for cash and valuables anyway. This just made it all the easier.

The club owner wasn’t perceptive, but he had been right about one thing. ‘Magic’ acts weren’t enough to provide for his dear Alice.


	16. A Playful Kiss (Jim x Harvey)

They were tired, stressed, and way past the end of their respective ropes. They needed rest. A soft bed. Or at the very least, stronger coffee. 

Harvey had boasted many times about his ability to sit on his keester and wait for results. He insisted that it was an essential part of being a detective, but three nights in a row on stakeouts was pushing it. Even for Harvey. Jim was more impatient at the best of times, so for him, it had been torture after the second night.

Then, finally, on night four, there was a break. They went in guns blazing, caught the bad guy, did some real police work. 

Both men were filled with an artificial high as the culprits were put away in lock up and Harvey expressed this by grabbing his partner’s face and planting a firm kiss on his lips. 

Jim’s eyes widened and he tensed up, but… He didn’t push away.

“You’re really happy, huh Harv?” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, trying not to think about how his heart had started to pound faster in his chest. 

“You’re darn right I am.” Harvey replied, his voice filled with a confidence that  _almost_  prevented Jim from seeing the somewhat sheepish expression that had appeared on his partner’s face. 

The kiss had taken them both by surprise, but really, neither of them had minded it.


	17. “Can I kiss you?” (Jim x Ed)

“Can I kiss you?”

Jim choked on his coffee. By now, he was used to Ed coming out with unexpected things, but that had taken him by surprise. 

Ed patted him on the back. “Oh dear. I’m sorry, detective. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Why do you want to kiss me?” Jim asked, once he had stopped coughing. He looked Ed over with a hint of suspicion. It wasn’t that the idea disgusted him, but it was a sudden, unusual request. He was sure Ed had some weird reason for it.

“I’m wearing a type of lip balm that I believe our mystery killer may have used to-“

“Oh for God’s sake.” Jim rolled his eyes and took another swig from his coffee, this time, without choking. 

Ed continued to hover beside Jim’s desk, even after Jim had picked up a file and began to flick through it, signalling him to leave. Ed didn’t take the hint. 

“So… No?” He asked, a little hopefully.

“No, Ed. I’m not kissing you when you have poison lip balm all over your lips.”

“Ah, but it’s not really  _poison_  you see, detective. That’s the beauty of it! What it does is-“

“Ed.” Jim slapped the file down onto the desk. 

“Yes, detective?”

“Wipe that stuff off, then come talk to me.” 

He’d meant it as a joke, but Ed gave him a little salute and smiled in a chipper, upbeat sort of a way. “Yes, detective!”

As Ed left, Jim began to suspect that the lip balm hadn’t been why Ed had asked him for the kiss at all.


	18. "Don't cry." (Jim x Ed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during season 1.

“Don’t cry.” 

He didn’t say it out of comfort or concern. It was an order, a command. 

“You’re twelve now. Too big to cry because some boys called you names.”

Ed bit his bottom lip. He nodded. He blinked over and over to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. His vision was misty now, even though he had his glasses on.

“When someone calls you names, you call them names right back. Or you sock them one. You don’t come crying to me.” 

Ed sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. He could hear his father sigh impatiently. 

“For fuck’s sake…” 

—

Ed took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply, slowly. 

“I won’t cry.” He whispered to himself. 

His breath quivered. He sniffled.

“I won’t cry.” He repeated.

“Ed?” 

Ed jumped. He put his glasses back on and put on a courtesy smile, even if the tears that were still blurring his vision probably made it look less than convincing.

“Hello, detective. What can I do for you?” 

“I just wanted to check if you had finished examining the blood stains left at the crime scene.” Jim looked him up and down, then held his gaze on Ed’s face. He squinted slightly, and Ed realised that it was probably because he could tell that he’d been crying. 

He probably disapproved.

In some ways, Jim reminded him of his father.

He wasn’t as harsh or as angry, but he had the same sort of forcefulness about him. He was what was referred to as a ‘man’s man’, and Ed could never gain their approval, even if part of him always longed for it. 

“Are you alright, Ed?”

“Huh?”

The question caught him off guard. Jim sounded… concerned. He didn’t sound mocking, or impatient, or disgusted. 

“You just seem a bit… You know.” Jim stepped forwards, but not so close as to seem overbearing.

Ed nodded wordlessly. Of course, he wasn’t really okay. But Jim’s concern had him dumbstruck.

“You sure?”

“I’m just a bit stressed. I suppose. It’s not a big deal. I will be right as rain tomorrow.” He found that the tears in his eyes had cleared and he could see clearly again. He felt better too. 

He could see Jim smile slightly and the other man patted him on the arm. “Good. You look after yourself. We’d be lost without you here.”


	19. "Stay with me forever." (Oswald x Zsasz)

“Stay with me forever.”

It wasn’t a request that Victor took lightly. He knew how serious it was. How important. 

Oswald’s life was always changing, always evolving. After the death of his mother it seemed that no one person stayed in it for very long. They either died or moved on. 

Sometimes they would come back, but more often they did not.

“Do you really want me to?”

Oswald nodded. He squeezed Victor’s hands in his own. 

“You’re the only one I have left.”

Victor waited for more. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay by his side, but he would not make that oath lightly. Before he did, he wanted to make sure that Oswald meant it.

Oswald seemed a little nervous when Victor didn’t immediately say that he would. He began to stammer out clarifications. “It’s not just that you’re the only one left. I care about you. I’d care about you even if I had a hundred people around me, a thousand.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Of course!”

“When Nygma was around-“

“Can we not talk about him?” Oswald pleaded, the name of his previous love making him shift uncomfortably. “I love you. I love you far more than I ever loved him.”

Victor didn’t believe that. He believed that Oswald loved him as much as he had loved Ed. Oswald was passionate and emotional. When he fell in love, there were no half-measures. However, he _could_ believe that Oswald thought that he loved him more than he had loved Ed. That counted for something.

“Okay then.” 

“Really?”

“I’ll stay with you forever.” 

Victor put a hand underneath his chin and held the shorter man’s head up. He leaned down and kissed him. Oswald reached up, wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” Oswald said, and Victor nodded. 

Oswald could trust him. He would keep his word and stay by his side as a constant, unwavering companion amongst all the change, the chaos. 

“I’ll follow you to hell and back.” Victor declared firmly.

“There’s no need to become morbid, Victor.” Oswald smiled, toying with the buttons of Victor’s shirt. He wasn’t unbuttoning them, but it seemed like he wanted to. “But I appreciate that. I would do the same for you.”

Victor brushed a few strands of hair from Oswald’s face and hummed contentedly. “I know you would.”


	20. Jealousy (Zsasz x Ed)

When it turned out that Ed was the jealous type, Victor wasn’t entirely surprised. 

“Come here,” Victor pulled Ed close and began to kiss him. If Ed was feeling jealous, all he needed to do was to remind him who he belonged to. 

“You said you’d be back on Thursday, today is Friday.” Ed muttered, tilting his head away from Victor’s kisses.

“Something came up.” Victor linked one of his hands with his. His other played with Ed’s tie. “Is this new?” He asked, referring to the neckwear.

“Yes it’s new. What came up?”

“You know that I don’t talk about jobs.”“Of course.” Ed scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Victor frowned and let go of Ed’s tie. “You don’t believe me?”There were few things more serious to Victor than loyalty. He didn’t like his being doubted. He would never cheat a client, and he would certainly never cheat on a lover.

Ed sighed dramatically and part of Victor knew that Ed was just being difficult. However, another part of him was irritated at what Ed was implying.

“Ed. Sometimes a job takes longer than I had originally planned. You should know this by now.” He reminded him. Ed sighed again. Victor paused. He was waiting for a response.

Finally, he got one.

“I know.” Ed conceded, eventually. The words came after several long, drawn out seconds of what could only be described as sulking.

“I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Victor’s hand was still linked in Ed’s. He squeezed it gently. “Right?”

Ed tried not to meet Victor’s gaze, but it was difficult. Victor could tell that he was struggling not to. Ed squeezed back.

“Right. That’s all that matters.”


	21. Major Injury (Jim x Ed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This maybe doesn't classify as a 'sweet, affectionate moment' but I didn't know where else to put it.

It hurt to breathe. It was hard to stay awake. The pain was blinding, burning, but he felt so sleepy. 

Jim was trying hard to keep him awake. 

“Just stay with me, Ed. It will just be a bit longer. Just a couple more minutes, then the ambulance will be here.”

Ed wondered why he cared. 

After all he had done to the detective, to his former colleague, Jim should be overjoyed at potentially seeing the last of him. 

He supposed that Jim was too ‘good’ for that. He always had to pretend to be the hero, even if he got no thanks for it. 

“Why don’t you tell me a riddle, eh?”

Ed nearly laughed. 

Jim Gordon was actually _asking_ him to tell him a riddle. That was funny.

“Come on, Ed.”

He felt his eyelids growing heavier. They were so heavy, he couldn’t bother to keep them open any longer. He heard Jim’s voice grow louder, more urgent, but it wasn’t enough to keep him awake.

“Ed. Ed, don’t you dare die on me. Ed, come on.”

He tried to think of a riddle, but he only got halfway through.


	22. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” (Zsasz x Jim)

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” The assassin asks, rolling his hips so that the crotch of his black leather pants is rubbing against Jim’s ass.

It is more than enough to make the detective groan, although he tries to disguise it with an irritated grumble. “Actually, you are.”

Victor chuckles, his breath tickling Jim’s ear before the edges of his teeth scrape lightly over the lobe. “Sorry.”

“You’re not.” Jim replies, matter-of-fact and trying to be stern, but he mostly fails at the second part. He sighs, deeply, and then he lets himself give in. 

The paperwork could wait fifteen minutes, or twenty, or even more… 

Jim turns around and he kisses Victor, his hands gripping as fists at his shirt. He can never seem to help being a bit rough with him, it wasn’t like that with Barbara, with Lee… But Victor doesn’t mind. He says that he likes it that way. He says that he likes looking at the bruises and the bite marks Jim leaves him with. 

Jim walks towards Victor with his shirt still in his grasp, and his lips on his, and then Victor is pressed against the wall. He chuckles again when his back meets its hard, flat surface. 

“You’re right, Jim.” Victor says once Jim breaks from kissing him, and the detective looks confused for a moment. He frowns slightly and his grip loosens, just a little.

“I’m not sorry at all.” The assassin explains, the side of his mouth curving into a subtle smile before he puts his hands on the back of Jim’s neck and pulls him into another kiss. 

“I want to bother you all night long.” 


	23. “You’re too damn cute.” (Oswald x Zsasz)

Victor thought it was strange that Oswald always wanted to take him out to such fancy restaurants. It wasn’t as if he even seemed to _like_ them. Almost always Oswald would order the most expensive thing on the menu, then only eat about half of it (at the most). 

Personally, he had no problems with ordering what he wanted, even if it was _technically_ from the kid’s menu, but Oswald couldn’t do that. He ordered what he thought was appropriate, not what he actually wanted.

On their latest date, he had only managed to eat about a quarter of his meal before he gave up. He looked a little paler than usual, like even eating that much of the overpriced food had been an ordeal.

Victor didn’t mention it. He thought it would embarrass him. 

Later that night, Victor woke up in an empty bed. That wasn’t too unusual, Oswald often slept badly and would go downstairs for an hour or two and do his own thing. However, something about their date that evening made Victor curious.

The assassin crept down the stairs, completely silent, and then, when he was close enough, he clicked the kitchen light switch on. Oswald gasped loudly and he nearly dropped his peanut butter sandwich on the ground.

Victor laughed, maybe more loudly than he should have.

“A midnight snack?” He teased, leaning on the doorframe. 

Oswald’s cheeks turned bright pink and he put the sandwich back on its plate sheepishly. “Shut up. I was hungry.”

“The food at Martello’s didn’t meet your high standards?”

“Oh stop teasing me, Victor. I only went there to impress you.” Oswald complained, the end of his words turning into a whine. 

Victor chuckled and walked towards him. He wiped a couple of crumbs off of Oswald’s bottom lip with his thumb and then kissed him. 

“You don’t need to do that. I like you as you are.”

“I have to keep up appearances. The King of Gotham can hardly be seen ordering a glass of chocolate milk and macaroni cheese at Martello’s.” Oswald replied, his voice trembling slightly as Victor ran his thumb, the same one that had swept the breadcrumbs off of his lip, along the edge of his jawline. His lips followed it, kissing there softly and then going lower on Oswald’s neck when the smaller man sighed and tilted his head up and exposed more of his throat. 

A short flick of Victor’s tongue on the sensitive skin and Oswald gasped, his hands gripping at Victor suddenly, like he needed him to stay standing. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” Victor mumbled, breath tickling Oswald’s ear, his words low and soft and just a touch impatient.

“I haven’t finished my sandwich.” 

Victor laughed before he could stop himself. Oswald pulled at him and let out a short frustrated whimper. “Stop that. I’m hungry.”

“I’m sorry.” Victor released him from his grasp, albeit a bit reluctantly. “But you’re just too damn cute.”

Oswald failed to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that, although the corners of his mouth twitched slightly and he very nearly smiled. “I’m not cute.”

“You’re very cute.”

“I’m not.”

“The cutest man in Gotham.”

“That’s just ridiculous.”

“It’s the truth.”

Oswald was smiling now, but he made a show of how exasperated he was by huffing and sighing in disbelief. Victor refused to budge on the matter.

“Let’s just go to bed.” Oswald finally conceded, after the two continued to disagree.

“What about your sandwich?"  
  
“Forget it.”


	24. “Remember when you used to care?” (Ed x Oswald)

Oswald’s teeth bit down onto the pillow, but it did little to stifle his cry. He felt like he was going to be split in two, and each sharp buck of the other man’s hips just made it worse.

“That’s enough! Just… Just stop!” He begged, but he was afraid that the man wouldn’t. He had known Oswald for little more than an hour. Why should he care if it hurt?

But he did stop.

“I’m sorry. Guess I went in a bit too fast, huh?”

Oswald nodded, his cheek rubbing against the slightly damp pillowcase. It was an unpleasant sensation, but it was nothing compared to how his ass felt. 

“I guess you need more lube…” The man said, already reaching for the bottle.

Oswald thought of stopping him, but he couldn’t summon up the motivation.

“You’re so tight. I guess it’s been a while?” Two slick fingers rubbed over Oswald’s hole, they began pushing inside of him as the man spoke.

Oswald nodded again at the man’s question. It _had_ been a while. When the fingers were removed, he found himself whimpering. He knew that soon they would be replaced by something larger.

The man seemed to mistake his trepidation for impatience, so he chuckled, and his voice was low and husky and rather attractive. 

“I’ll soon loosen you up, gorgeous.”  
  
Oswald cringed, but he kept his disapproval muted because he wanted this. 

He wanted to be fucked hard, his face pressed against a mattress, and to still feel the ache the next day.

He wanted it to mean nothing to the other man. He wanted it to be a simple, unromantic act. One that simultaneously sated and repelled him enough to last a lifetime.

“Fuck…” The man groaned as he pushed his hips forwards. His cock was less painful for Oswald to take this time, but it was still too big to really feel pleasurable.

“Fuck, damn… Ugh, you feel so good.” The man repeated more obscenities under his breath and Oswald’s teeth gnashed on the pillowcase again as his hips rocked.

When the man had finished, Oswald tugged himself off quickly and then let his knees drop so that he collapsed flat onto his stomach. The man said his goodbyes and let himself out.

Oswald sighed.

Several long, silent minutes passed before he finally fell asleep.

His dream was a memory. A memory of his first time.

Ed nuzzled against the side of his neck and Oswald laughed at how his hair tickled his cheek. Their bodies rubbed together, their movements increasingly desperate as their pleasure built.

Oswald could see Ed’s face when he came, and he felt a special sort of pride at making Ed look like that. At making Ed moan like that.

“Remember when you used to care?” 

A month passed and Ed was accusing Oswald of not caring. All because he had recently been too busy to indulge his childish fantasies of villainy. Crime was not a game to Oswald, it was a tool. Ed’s attitude towards it could be tiresome at times. 

“I’m busy, Edward. I don’t have time to listen to about fifty prospective riddles for a jewel heist.” He grumbled.

“ _Seventeen_ prospective riddles.”

“Whatever.”

A week later and Ed had been caught. He was in Arkham again. 

Oswald had tried to visit but Ed hadn’t wanted to see him. 

He was sulking.

Even after Ed eventually escaped, he didn’t come to see Oswald, and that stung.

After many bitter nights alone, Oswald had sought solace in some stranger’s embrace (or rather, his cock), but it didn’t work. He woke up after a short while and felt nothing but loneliness, and a dull ache from the rough sex.

“Mr Penguin, Mr Nygma is at the door. He is asking for you.” Olga’s familiar voice called through the thick wood of his bedroom door and snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts.

Oswald sat up, too quickly, but the news was too welcome for him to bother wincing. 

“Let him in! I will be down in a moment!”

Remember when he cared? Fool that he was, he still did.

As he hurriedly got dressed and made himself look presentable, he told himself he would listen to a hundred, or a thousand, or a _million_ of Ed’s ridiculous riddles if it meant being with him again.


	25. "There's a leaf in your hair." (Strange x Nicewald)

Oswald had never been the type to appreciate the outdoors. He preferred the warmth and comfort of a cosy fireplace that was enjoyed from a comfy chair. 

However, he liked being outdoors with Hugo.

Every Tuesday, they would take a walk around the courtyard (so long as it wasn’t raining), and it quickly became the highlight of Oswald’s week. 

Besides, his room in the hospital was hardly cosy and there was certainly no fireplace, and so the temperature difference between indoors and outdoors was negligible. In fact, Oswald was sure that (more often than not) his room was actually colder than it was outside.

“Before we go back inside, Oswald, I was wondering if you’d like to sit on the grass with me for a while.”

Oswald nodded enthusiastically. “Of course.

He really liked spending time with Hugo. Any offer to extend the amount of time was most welcome indeed. 

It was true that he had been afraid of him once, but that had been before he’d started to properly try to reform. He had probably just been scared of him because he had been scared of changing, even if it was for the better.

Thankfully the grass was dry, but the ground was a little uncomfortable and uneven. However, Oswald soon found himself relaxing when Hugo began talking with him about something other than his therapy. He understood that Hugo was his doctor, so of course it made sense for them to only talk about that, but it was nice to speak to him about other things too. It almost made Oswald feel like they might be friends one day.

“Ah, excuse me.”

Hugo reached forwards and the back of his hand brushed lightly against Oswald’s cheek. The pale skin immediately flushed pink and inside of his chest, his heart began to thrum loudly. 

“There’s a leaf in your hair.” 

Hugo showed him the crinkled brown leaf that he’d plucked from Oswald’s hair and Oswald found himself a little disappointed that he hadn’t just wanted to touch him.


	26. "Your hands are so much larger than mine." (Harvey x Nicewald)

“Ready?” Harvey’s eyes were narrowed and his voice was low, serious.

Oswald swallowed deeply, then nodded. “Ready.”

“Go!”

The thumb war began, but it lasted only ten seconds before Harvey’s thumb pinned Oswald’s. Oswald squirmed and tried to wriggle it as much as he could, but it did nothing. He couldn’t escape.

“Ha ha! I win _again._ ” Harvey declared, making no effort to be gracious in victory.”That must be what… Five rounds I’ve won now?”

“Let’s play again.” Oswald put his hand out expectantly, “I’ll win this time.”

“No way, little man. I’m quitting while I’m ahead.” 

Oswald’s face dropped slightly, and Harvey couldn’t help but think that the former gangland Kingpin almost looked… cute. “Just once more?” 

“Ah fine, fine. Once more. Then you’ll quit pestering me.” He conceded, linking his right hand with Oswald’s. 

“I promise.” Oswald nodded, and Harvey swore that he had put on the puppy-dog eyes on purpose. 

“Ready?”

A beat.

“Go!”

—

“So, that’s six games in a row to me.” 

“Once more?”

“Nice try. We had an agreement, Cobblepot.”

Oswald was rubbing his hand, which was probably aching a bit, and he was wearing an expression that was dangerously close to a pout. 

“It’s not fair, your hands are so much larger than mine.” He complained, much to Harvey’s amusement. “This is why I wanted to play cards instead. Thumb wars isn’t even really a _game_.”

“You’re just saying that because you lost.” Harvey replied, getting up from his chair and shaking out his hand. He got them both a drink from the fridge. “We can play cards next, alright? But I still don’t think it’s as fun when there’s no money involved.”

“I’ll get the deck.” Oswald perked up at that and got up from his own chair to go find them. He knew where they were. Over the last few days, he had gotten familiar with where Harvey kept his things. Harvey didn’t mind. 

It was a strange arrangement, but it was nice to live with someone again. 

He’d never have thought he’d link the word ‘nice’ with Oswald Cobblepot, but life was what it was. 

Harvey sat back down at the table with the beers and Oswald soon joined him. He gave Harvey the deck to shuffle and sat across from him with an eager expression on his all too innocent face. 

He’d never thought the guy looked cute _before._ He had just been another pain in his ass. A blight on the city. 

But now he was far too cute for his own good. 

Harvey felt protective over him. 

“Okay, so first one to win three games?”

“First one to win three games.” Oswald nodded. 

Harvey began to shuffle the cheap blue-backed playing cards, he sighed a little. He supposed that he should enjoy being the winner while it lasted. Oswald always kicked his butt at cards.


	27. “Why did you think that was a good idea?” (Jim x Ed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during s1.

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Explain to me again why you thought this was a good idea?”

Ed smiled enthusiastically, either not catching onto Jim’s annoyance or ignoring it entirely. 

“Well, detective, as I said, the killer uses a glue-like substance to keep his victims still while he tortures them. So I thought-“

“So you thought that it would be a good idea to glue me to my chair?”

Ed nodded, but this time he seemed to catch onto the detective’s disapproval and he had the sense to let the bright smile drop from his face. He rubbed his arm and lowered his gaze, just enough to avoid Jim’s stern stare. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Jim wasn’t certain if he believed that Ed had ever thought it was a ‘good’ idea. 

“I’m terribly sorry if I caused you any embarrassment. That wasn't my intention.”

“Uh-huh. What did you think would happen after I got stuck to my chair?”

Ed looked behind him, towards the door. He wanted to leave, but Jim wasn’t ready to let him just yet. 

“I don’t know.” The forensics expert replied, a slight whine entering his voice. 

“You didn’t think that I might have to take off my shirt, my pants, and wriggle out of them to get free?” Jim asked, raising an eyebrow. He was currently standing in just his white undershirt and dark blue boxer shorts. He’d get a spare shirt and some pants later, but he had wanted to have a talk with the culprit first. He had a feeling that if he went to get the clothes before confronting Ed, Ed might conveniently disappear for the rest of the workday. 

Ed didn’t reply, just shrugged his shoulders. Jim sighed again. 

He was acting like a child, and he was clamming up too. Jim felt like the chances of extracting a more sincere apology from him without a little _persuasion_ was fading. 

“Fine. I don’t believe you. But fine.” Jim walked towards Ed, then passed him. 

As he got close to him, he saw Ed tense, and he tried not to enjoy the flicker of nervousness that passed over the jittery young man’s face. He was going to the men’s locker room, but before that, he had something to take care of.

—

Ed closed the door behind him then walked over to his workspace. Then, he had a thought and walked back over to the door and locked it. He was almost certain it was unnecessary, but a small part of him worried that Detective Gordon would get ideas and come down to give him another lecture. He’d rather not have to endure that. 

It wasn’t that it frightened him, but it did make his heart hammer in his chest, his throat grow dry, and his insides feel like they were coiling tighter and tighter. He wasn’t sure what proportion of these symptoms were due to fear, or guilt, and what proportion was due to arousal. 

A small, mischievous smile tugged at Ed’s lips as he went back over to his workspace and sat down. Detective Gordon had been right. The thought of him having to remove articles of his clothing to free himself _had_ crossed Ed’s mind, but he could hardly have admitted that to the detective’s face.

Ed worked contentedly by himself for a little while, until he realised that he needed a file that was on the other side of the room. He moved to stand up, and found that he was stuck.

He blinked, then he tried to stand up again.

He was definitely stuck.

“Oh gosh.” He muttered under his breath, wriggling slightly, even though he knew it was useless. The substance was quite impossible to remove without a spray once it had dried in. “Oh no.”

Ed quickly gave up trying to peel his ass off of the stool, and instead, he stood up, holding the seat in place as he walked gingerly over to find the spray. 

It was gone.

He wasn’t absent minded, he knew where he had left it, but it was gone. 

Detective Gordon must have taken it. 

“Oh dear.” 

Plan B was to remove his pants and take a spare pair from the men’s locker room, but it was no good. His pants were far too tight for him to easily slip out of and the fact that they were glued to the flat, plastic surface of the stool made it even more difficult. Nonetheless he tried.

He tried to wriggle free of them as carefully as he could, until he heard the dreaded sound of them starting to rip.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” He muttered, face flushing slightly at what a predicament he had managed to get himself into. He was starting to think that ripping the seat off of his pants might be the simplest solution after all.

—

Jim waited in the mens’ locker room. He expected Ed to come slinking in any moment now. 

He glanced at his watch, pulling up the sleeve of the spare shirt that he had borrowed to see its face. It was a little too big. 

The door clicked open, and sure enough, it was Ed.

He was wearing a lab coat over his shirt and had it wrapped tightly around himself. He looked positively mortified when he saw Jim, and Jim couldn’t help but feel a certain smug self satisfaction at that. 

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his chin up slightly, consciously avoiding looking at the other man’s long, slender legs which were now partly exposed due to his lack of pants. 

“You put glue on my stool.” Ed accused, and the way he said those words made him sound so childish that Jim couldn’t stop himself from chuckling a bit. 

“You put glue on my chair. I’d say that makes us even.”

Ed opened his mouth to complain, to argue, but then he closed it again. He apparently thought better of it. Instead he just asked. “Are there any spare pants left?”

Jim was tempted to lie, but he decided that would be cruel. 

“Yeah.” Jim nodded towards the box of spares. “See you later, Ed.”

“Detective?”

“Yeah?”

Ed worried the side of the cardboard box with his fingernails and his eyes moved between Jim’s face and the space just past his shoulder. 

“I really didn’t mean to annoy you. I misjudged how embarrassed it would make you.”

Jim believed him this time. 

“It’s alright, Ed. Just don’t do it again.” He patted the other man on the shoulder, his hand resting there a little longer than was necessary, and then he left him in peace to get a spare pair of pants.

For the rest of the day, he found himself trying very hard not to think about Ed’s legs.


	28. "Will you just tell me the truth?" (Gabe x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during s1 with some background Gobblepot.

“Damn it.” 

Oswald usually took a long time to get ready, but today he was taking _ages._ Gabe didn’t understand why. It was just a meeting with that cop, Gordon, but Oswald had tried on about a dozen different ties, jackets, and shoes. He had put eyeliner on, mascara, and then washed it off, but then he’d put it back on again.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Gabe asked, although he didn’t expect him to tell him. Oswald would probably just snap at him to be patient and to mind his own business, as usual. “You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Weird?” Oswald took offence at that and Gabe immediately regretted his choice of words. He often said the wrong thing around Oswald, the guy was sensitive. 

“I just mean… That’s like the fifteenth tie you’ve tried on, and we’ve got someplace to be.”

Oswald’s frown slowly softened and instead he sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. “You’re right. I should just make a decision. I can’t be late to this meeting.”

“Yeah.”  
  
Oswald turned around to face his mirror and held up a dark purple tie to his shirt collar, then a ruby red one. He held up the purple one again. 

He paused.

Gabe could see his tortured expression in the mirror. 

“Gabe! I need your advice!” Oswald suddenly exclaimed, turning around sharply and showing Gabe both of the ties. “Tell me honestly, which one do you think is better?”

Gabe was surprised that he was being asked his opinion.

“You really wanna know, boss?”

“Yes, yes. Hurry up and just tell me the truth.”

The larger man looked at both of them for a few moments, then nodded to the red one. 

“The red one. The colour of love and all that.”

Oswald smiled wryly and raised an eyebrow as he considered the red tie. Gabe was about to say something else about how it would suit Oswald’s skin tone, when the smaller man threw it aside and began fastening the purple one instead. 

“Thank you for your opinion, Gabe.” He teased, and Gabe did his best to keep his expression flat.


	29. “Will you just hold still?” (Jim x Oswald)

“Oswald, for God’s sake…” Jim muttered, a chiding tone entering his voice, and Oswald whimpered plaintively in response.

“I’m sorry, Jim but-“

“No buts. Just stay still for me.” Jim dipped his head down and began kissing him again. His lips brushed against the inside of his thigh, and Oswald’s hips bucked with a sharp moan. Jim shushed him gently. “If you keep squirming, I’m gonna have to tie you up.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like how responsive Oswald was. In fact, he loved it. It was flattering. But he liked to tease him about it. Seeing Oswald try and fail to stay still for him was near intoxicating. Oswald would squirm and gasp and try so hard, but he could never manage it. Not for long anyway.

“Jim,” Oswald breathed, sounding rather thrilled at the thought of being bound to the bed. “I can’t help it.”

“Sure you can. Just relax. For once.”

“I’ll try.” Oswald replied, and Jim felt a swell of affection at the sincerity of the smaller man’s words. Sincerity wasn’t something he often expected when dealing with Oswald but, over time, he felt like he was getting it more and more from him.

“Good boy,” Jim kissed his other leg, and felt him shiver.

He started to go down on Oswald, and Oswald was moaning and arching his back and pleading within moments. His legs wrapped around Jim’s torso, tight and desperate, and Jim had to put a hand on one of them to remind Oswald not to squeeze him so hard. Oswald gasped out an apology, but it was barely audible over the wet sounds of Jim’s tongue lapping over his member. 

“Oh my- Oh Jim… Jim, I’m going to- Oh…” Oswald’s hands twisted into Jim’s hair as he came, and Jim nearly choked. 

Next time, he was definitely tying him up.


End file.
